The Night She Saw the Ocean
by l3ori
Summary: Somewhere above them, the clouds shifted. Sunlight shone down on the dancing waves. They were so bright. Too bright to look at. Like that farewell smile atop a crumbling tower, against the light of dawn, a thousand years ago when they were still together. Her eyes burned.
1. Chapter 1

**Inspired by the song The Night We Met, Lord Huron.**

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* * *

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 _I've been searching for a trail to follow, again…  
Take me back to the night we met…_

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* * *

 _._

 _This is the ocean._ Armin had told her.

Historia had never heard the boy's voice so filled with longing, like he was looking for something to appear on the liquid sky stretching beyond the horizon. If she cared a little more, she might have asked what he was searching for.

If she did.

Truth was she was distracted by her own wants, searching for the shadow of the land that devoured the best thing that ever happened to her. Maybe if she had seen it, she would feel less trapped. Maybe the broken pieces of her heart would finally shatter completely, and she would not feel this _incomplete_.

When exactly did it happen? She wanted to know. They said when two people shared a special connection, they were supposed to feel it in their heart when something bad happened...

Historia wondered if it didn't happen to her because she had handed her heart over a long time ago.

"Do you think she suffered?"

The question slipped out expectantly. Armin snapped his eyes back from the glittering waves in surprise. She was shocked too, but she did not let it show.

Somewhere above them, the clouds shifted. Sunlight shone down on the dancing waves. They were so bright. Too bright to look at. Like that farewell smile atop a crumbling tower, against the light of dawn, a thousand years ago when they were still together. Her eyes burned.

 _Live._ She heard the ocean whispers. When it washed over the sand. When it crashed on stone. _Live your life proudly._

Except it was not dawn. It was nearly dusk. Her loyal subjects spent the entire morning sweeping the area to make sure it was safe. Armin was sent to accompany her while others worked. He had been quiet up until he suddenly looked up from her book, and asked whether she would like to see the sunset with him.

She agreed, and did not ask him why.

"I don't know." The boy answered truthfully. He turned back toward the vastness after he spoke. They stood side by side in silence.

"You don't have to hold back." She told him. "The people who know the truth is on the other end of this endless lake. So just… just tell me what you think."

Armin stood motionless, expressionless. Historia waited until she was certain he meant not to answer.

"It's an ocean." He corrected timidly.

To Historia, the term meant nothing. But obviously it did to Armin. _Names are such strange creatures._ She reflected. When she was still Krista, she was content with living in the shadow. She wanted to die. But when her true name left her lips for the first time in four long years, she became someone else. Historia did not want to die. Historia wanted to fight for everything she treasured and live to find happiness.

"…I don't know if she did. I hope it was quick and painless." He whispered, like he's afraid his words would hurt her. Historia contemplated telling him the truth, that there was not enough left of her to be hurt. He continued before she said anything. "But I think… I think maybe she welcomed the end."

It was her turn to stare.

Armin noticed, looked at her, and quickly dropped his gaze. "I'm sorry." He mumbled shamefully. "I don't mean to throw salt on the wound."

"No, it's okay. Please continue."

She smiled the perfect, benevolent smile of the queen. It had become second nature. A mask that had melted onto her skin.

Armin raised his eyes to meet hers, and studied her like he was only seeing her for the first time.

"Even if she remembered none of it, she still ate another human being." Finally he said, quietly. He looked away again, like he was pained by what he saw. "That guilt never fades. The blood won't cleanse. All those memories and emotions of the person you consume eventually catch up. Things start to blend together, and sometimes you forget who you really are when you wake up. Sometimes you don't think you ever woke up from the nightmare."

She felt bad for him. He never asked for this power. He had already decided to give up everything, to be rid of this cruel world, and because of someone's selfishness, he was dragged back through mud and blood.

"Do you think it will be worth it in the end?"

Armin hesitated, seemingly reluctant to answer.

"It has to be." He said. "It has to. Otherwise, what the hell are we fighting for?"

Historia did not reply. Just like Armin, she was afraid of the answer.

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* * *

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 _When the night was full of terrors…_

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* * *

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She was not sure what made her dizzy. The flickering flame, the dancing shadows, or the voices humming words in the distance.

It had been a while since she sat with other soldiers at mealtime. Not because her advisors instructed her not to, but because she no longer felt she belong.

That, and because she was afraid of precisely what was happening now.

Somebody had the brilliant idea of smuggling ales into the platoon caravan. No one knew who the culprit was. No one would admit it. Although Historia saw some of her former comrades throwing suspicious glances at Sasha.

She told them to break the cask at dinner. When Hanji tried to argue, she simply smiled and told her it was past time the hardworking soldiers got their rewards. Some of them never tasted alcohol, sticklers to rules they were, and she didn't think it would be such a bad idea.

At first.

Then she took a sip like everyone else did and almost spit it right out.

It was wrong, wrong, wrong.

Not the choice of ale. The brew gave a burning sensation when you chug too fast, and left an herbal aftertaste in the mouth. The recipe was simple. They sold similar ales at most taverns in all cities and villages across the land. It was cheaply done and easily accessible by people of all social status and wealth.

Ah, yes. So common in fact, that trainees used to sneak them in under packages of food and ammunitions in the supply carts.

She remembered her first time tasting it. Someone pinched her nose and forced the mug to her lips. She flailed and failed at fighting back the strong arms pinning her to her chair.

The room span now just as it span then, after she gulped down and nearly choked on the liquor. A strong arm patted her back. A voice laughed and cooed that she did a good job. She felt dizzy. She threw her tiny fists up to hit that person's chest, afraid that headbutting might cause her to throw up.

There was no one sitting next to her.

She stood from the bench and quickly excused herself. Commander Hanji asked if she was okay, and she smiled the same empty smile of the queen. The excuse of needing some fresh air always worked.

She felt their eyes on her as she left. The ghostly laughter followed behind.

Historia told it to shut up. Of course it did not.

The salt in the wind was faint under the delicious smell of smoked meat. And burning firewood. She looked around and spotted the guards keeping watch for the camp almost instantly.

They did not see her. They were still huddled around the fire, humming while poking the fire with a stick.

 _When you had not touched me yet…_

She slipped away without them noticing. The low chuckle of someone who wasn't there covered her footsteps. Or maybe it was just the wind.

It was probably just the wind.

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* * *

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She didn't hear Mikasa approach.

"I thought I would find you here." The older woman said softly, but it still startled her.

"I'm sorry." She blurted out, wiping her eyes with her sleeve before turning around. "Commander Hanji didn't give those guards a hard time, did she? I didn't mean to worry anyone."

"I told her I would escort you." Mikasa interrupted. "I was worried."

She didn't know what to say.

"You don't have to."

"But I do." Her red scarf flopped in the breeze. She tucked behind loose strands of hair. "May I sit?"

Historia scooted, though she didn't really need to. There was plenty of space around. Mikasa kept a respectable space between them before she took her place on the rock.

"You don't look well." She said.

"I'm just tired." Historia pulled up her knees and buried half of her face in them. "It's the travel and the ale. That's all."

She was _not_ sobbing uncontrollably on top of a rock, thinking about someone she would never see again. She could not.

"You haven't been well." Mikasa paused, and elaborated. "You haven't been well since she left."

"I'm fine."

"Everyone's worried."

"Everyone who?"

Mikasa shrugged. "Eren, Armin, and others."

She smiled despite herself. Mikasa was still the same Mikasa. Her entire world consisted of a small group of selected people. They were all that mattered to her, and she never thought to pretend otherwise.

Sometimes Historia was so jealous of her.

"I'm okay." She repeated. "Seriously. There's nothing to worry about."

Mikasa ignored her.

"This world is cruel." She touched the scarf as she spoke. "But to me at least, it's all worth it."

Historia did not bother to ask how. It's unfair. Eren was still here. She pulled her knees higher and buried her head deeper. It was a selfish thought, she knew. Eren would not be here for long. The clock was ticking.

She was suffocating like all the air in the world just got sucked away from her.

If that idiot hadn't gone ahead and sacrificed herself, how long would they still have?

The music from the camp drifted to her with the wind.

 _I had all and then most of you,  
Some and now, none of you._

She wanted a lifetime.

"I chose this path. And she chose that one." She mumbled. "It can't be helped."

"Doesn't mean it hurt any less." Mikasa put a hand on her shoulder. She didn't even realize she was trembling. "The point is, it's okay to hurt, as long as you don't do it by yourself."

"I'm not hurting." She said stubbornly.

"Then why did you stop saying her name?"

"I didn't."

"Then say it." Mikasa squeezed. "Say her name."

The stars shone like fireflies. Moonlight scattered diamonds on the water. She opened and closed her mouth several times, like a fish on land.

It was not supposed to be this hard.

She had called that name countless times before. She had cried it out when she woke from the nightmare every night. Once upon a time it was as easy and natural as breathing.

So why couldn't she now?

Someone ruffled her hair. Not Mikasa. Her hand still rested on her shoulder, waiting. It was the weight of the whole world, and light as nothing.

Nothing. There was nothing there. The hand that always mussed her hair with a bright teasing smile was gone. She choked back a sob.

"It's okay."

It's not.

"You'll be okay."

She never will again.

"It won't be any easier." Mikasa said. "But you have to at least try."

She sucked in a deep breath. She didn't believe it would make any difference, but if this would get Mikasa to be quiet – if this would get people to stop looking at her funny, that would be enough for now.

She opened her mouth again and tried hard not to think about all the times she called out, expecting to see the tall, freckled girl standing right by her side.

"Y-"

She could only manage that much. As soon as the sound left her lips, it shattered into nothing.

 _What's wrong, Historia?_ She heard her say, laughing at nothing and everything. _Forgot my name already?_

Except she never said that to her, ever. She didn't know her real name until it was almost too late. And the name _Historia_ was associated with heartache and goodbyes.

She would give it up all over again if it meant one more moment with her. She would go back to be Krista forever if that meant Ymir would return to her.

And there it was.

 _I don't know what I'm supposed to do,  
Haunted by the ghost of you…_

"Ymir."

She choked. And the castles and walls she so carefully built collapsed like a house of cards. She wept and sobbed and wailed.

"Ymir."

It's amazing how she could still feel anything after she had given her heart out. How Ymir could break her heart and yet she still loved her with all the rest she had.

"She's a bloody fool." She said to no one in particular. "Such a bloody fool."

She clutched at the letter that never left her side anymore. That was the last piece of Ymir she had left.

"Why couldn't she wait until I say yes?" She gripped the cloak until it began to tear. "Why couldn't she stay like we both wanted her to? Why did she have to go get herself killed?"

They were supposed to be selfish for once. That meant they were supposed to, finally, get the happiness they always wanted.

Liar. Cheater. Heartless.

She wanted the chance to yell those insults at her, face-to-face.

She didn't care if there would be more complication. Her royal duty could go to hell with all the rest of her kingdom. She could give everything up for Ymir too. All she needed was a chance to prove it.

All she needed was to start over. And then, this time, she would not let anyone or anything stop her from taking what's rightfully hers.

"I miss you." She said to the nonexistent person still gently ruffling her hair.

 _I know._

"I want to go back."

 _Me too._

"And I will tell you, I don't want to be a do-gooder. I don't want to do what I was told."

 _Let it go._

And even though she just swore she wasn't going to do what she was told, she obeyed. Her fingers unwrapped around the paper, and the wind lifted it from under her cloak.

She watched it soar into the air, drifting out of her reach. And the song that's now stuck in her mind echoed, from earth to sky, to wherever the lost ones go.

 _Take me back to the night we met…  
Take me back to the night we met…_


	2. Chapter 2

**Inspired by A 1000 Times, Hamilton Leithauser**

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She slumped against nothing when the warriors left the room. The chains that constrained her limbs were her only support, and the last thread tying her to this cruel fate.

She watched, but didn't stir, when the boy walked into the room. His face was familiar even though she never saw him before.

A small voice in the back of her mind muttered something about the boy looking well and spirited. The pride was fleeting. She made no attempt to remember either of their names. At this point, it didn't really matter anymore.

But a part of her argued back. It did matter. She wondered if this boy would be in the same situation she trapped herself in now. She wondered if – or when – the boy saw the person she longed to see, whether her own voice would echo in his mind. She wondered if she could rely on him to tell her how sorry she was. For leaving. For everything.

 _Do you have anything you want to say to him?_ She asked the voice in her head.

The response was silence.

The boy produced a pouch from his jacket, and pulled out a syringe from within. She thought it was ironic that her life should begin and end with that same accursed object.

He looked up and their eyes made brief contact, before he turned away stubbornly.

Those brows full of the arrogance of youth made a small wince as he plunged the needle into his vein. There was a flash.

She averted her eyes and tried to empty her mind. She didn't want to die with any regret, nor did she want to look at her own gruesome fate.

Heavy footsteps shook the chamber and her resolve. They stopped in front of her. The silence was ominous.

Biting her lower lips, she looked up.

The Giant's eyes met hers. For a moment, it seemed to ask her the same question.

 _Do you have anything you want to say to her?_

And it was in those soulless, unseeing eyes that Ymir found the answer. The tension in her body evaporated when hot tears streamed down her face.

-the mouth of the giant wrapped around her. The slime dripped and coated her body. She could feel its breath devouring her in suffocating warmth.

She supposed she had a good run. She got a second chance in living. She found the treasure she didn't even know she was looking for. And she had the freedom of choosing, albeit foolishly, to save somebody one last time.

-the waiting was agonizing. She prayed whatever vengeance the boy had in his mind did not linger through this state. She was looking for a quick, clean death. Call her a coward, but she did not want to suffer for the sins she committed.

She was a fucking idiot. Now that she thought about it. She didn't just want to see her one last time. She wanted to be by her side always. To protect her. To be saved by her existence. It was not the idea of pain and death that frightened her. It was the idea that _she_ could live in loneliness for the rest of her life, that there would be nobody left to truly, entirely devote themselves to her happiness that scared Ymir.

-she knew the jaw was snapping shut before the muscles started moving. And the urge to fight back almost overwhelmed her.

 _Let's live for ourselves._

The goddess smiled, extending a hand for her to take.

 _What do you wish for your life?_

- _I want…_

It didn't matter what she wanted. Not anymore. Perhaps it never mattered. The teeth sunk in her flesh, and everything snapped into darkness.

The dead do not suffer the living.

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* * *

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 _A thousand times, a thousand times_

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* * *

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She wakes with a start.

The room is dark. Not like the chamber with the altar and chains. More like the streets of her childhood, minus the broken walls and the constant hunger. It is quite cozy in fact, with many secondhand furniture that do not belong to her.

She wipes away the cold sweat formed on her forehead and pushed the bedsheet to the side. By this point she has gotten used to it. There will be no more sleep for the night.

The clock read 3:54am. Ymir scowls at the glowing numbers. She has hoped she could finally get some decent rest. The past couple weeks have all been for preparing final reports and exams. She hasn't gone one night with more than three hours of sleep.

Stretching, she looks to the other end of the room absentmindedly. When her gaze falls on the small bundle snorting softly on the only other bed in the room, she cannot help the smile.

Moving silent as a shadow, she tiptoes across the room to the window, to one of her few possessions. A velvet armchair they found in the garage sale few years back.

The bundle mumbles incoherently when she flops down in the chair. She contemplates being quieter as to not disturb her roommate's sleep, but she also wants to wake her up. To hear her sweet voice calling her name. To see her eyes sparkle when she smiles. She leans back to rest her head against the back.

The chair faces away from the view, something that her roommate has asked to explain. She never did. She glanced out of the window, with the world upside down. The high-rises block her vision, but she can still steal a glimpse of what's beyond.

Thousands of years passed, the stars have not changed one bit. And just the sight of it reminds her how tragically fortunate her life has been.

She's got everything she has ever wanted here. A peaceful and simple life. Friends and families she doesn't constantly have to worry will die in the mouth of Giants. She's got the freedom to go wherever she wants, do whatever she desires. And most important of all…

The bundles stirs again, and she looks back.

Moonlight baths that childishly innocent face she adores with all her being. The girl mumbles again, pulling the cover tighter around her body. Her mouth opens slightly and Ymir sees the corner is slightly damp.

She smiles.

She put the armchair here precisely because this is the perfect angle to watch Historia sleep.

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* * *

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 _I changed my crowd, I ditched my tie  
I watched the sparks fly off the fire_

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* * *

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Hisotira doesn't remember.

That was perhaps the single most difficult idea Ymir has had to wrap her head around. Well, at least in this lifetime.

She remember the first time they met. A true coincidence. Sasha and Connie completely forgot about their arrangement to hit the library for some last-minute study (which will inevitably turn into a trip downtown, with lots of arcade visits and food). She was grumbling to herself about how she should punish those idiots for ditching when they bumped into each other. Literally.

She was about to lash out at the poor soul for rushing without looking when her eyes connected with those crystal blue. The world seemed to fold on itself until there were only the two of them left. Her brain stopped functioning for a moment, leaving her mouth open in a comical fashion.

Later on, when they became closer, Historia often joked that she thought she must give an awful first impression because Ymir looked like she had seen a ghost. Ymir never laughed at those jokes. She smiled, and ignored all the knowing and empathetic looks she got from their old comrades.

Sasha suggested telling Historia about their past – actually, not just Sasha. A lot of the people said so too.

Ymir always shakes her head. When others asked her why, she never gave them a proper response. After a while, they stopped nagging her about it.

She might not remember, but deep down Ymir knows there must be something Historia _felt_ when they met.

Why else would Historia be drawn to her so quickly?

When they met, Historia was still a freshman and Ymir was already halfway through her study. By logic, they should have parted way not long after they met. But Ymir found all sorts of excuses to drag on her study, if just to stay by her side a little longer.

She never openly admitted it, but everyone else seemed to have guessed it anyway. That is, anyone except Historia.

As the years go by, they become inseparable. Almost like how they used to be. That's how they ended up in the same dorm room. Historia's parents offered to pay for an apartment off-campus, but she has refused. Ymir never asked why.

Some answers are not worth risking everything to know.

"Ymir?"

The soft voice startles her slightly. Historia doesn't even have her eyes open, but now that her attention is brought back to the small girl, she can definitely hear the change in the rhythm of her breathing. Historia is definitely awake, albeit quite sleepy still.

"Nope." She says with as much flatness as she can manage. "I'm a burglar to kidnap you."

Historia giggles. "Burglars are supposed to steal stuff, not kidnap people."

Ymir rolls her eyes. "Oh yeah? I think they will make an exception just for you. You look like a tasty meat ticket."

The giggle is louder this time, and Ymir can't help her own. This is her lullaby. Her hymn, her gospel, and her renaissance. This is the reason she is still here.

Historia opens her eyes. Those blue eyes glistens under the moonlight, so full of life and joy. The lack of sleep makes them soft and dreamy. She is so beautiful Ymir thinks she is falling in love all over again.

"Go back to sleep." She says. "You have that big day tomorrow, don't you?"

That pout is so clueless it almost breaks Ymir's heart.

"You never tell me what's wrong." Historia whispers sleepily, and moves a hand to punch her arm harmlessly.

Ymir wills the tears back into her sockets and smiles for her. She easily stops the attack and returns the favor by mussing up the smaller girl's hair. Historia whines and wiggles deeper into her blanket fortress. Ymir laughs.

"Because there's nothing wrong." When she says that her hand is running gently across the pale gold locks. Historia snuggles against it with a contented smile. Ymir wonders whether this girl will ever know what she is doing to her. What power she wields over Ymir's soul.

She doesn't necessarily want Historia to remember their past. There was some disappointment at first when they met, sure, but in the years to come she has concluded that was probably for the best. Historia is finally able to live a normal, happy life.

Besides, she is confident she can still give the love of her life the happiness she deserves, without all the pain and sorrow from their past lives.

In theory, yes. But never could Ymir have imagined that when she found Historia, it was already too late.

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* * *

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 _My eyes were red, the streets were bright  
Those ancient years were black and white_

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* * *

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Ymir left the week after Historia's wedding, while the newlyweds were on their honeymoon.

She lied to Historia about that. The thought of the look on the blonde's face after she returned only to discover Ymir had vacated from their shared apartment always makes her chuckle softly while a sting rushes to her eyes. She moved to the other side of the country, as far away as possible.

She is afraid that she won't be able to control herself any longer.

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* * *

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 _The 10th of November, the year's almost over  
If I had your number, I'd call you tomorrow  
If my eyes were open, I'd be kicking the doors in  
But all that I have is this old dream I've always had_

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* * *

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She is still in the cloth she wore yesterday when she opens the door. Work has been batshit crazy as of late, and even thought Ymir constantly complains about it to anyone who is unfortunate enough to be in her vicinity, everybody around her knows she absolutely loves it.

Annie calls to check up on her every once in a while. She is still staying with the others back at that university town where the whole gang eventually all gathered. Their conversations are short and awkward, like when talking to one's parents. But the call never stops and because they never talk about anyone they don't want to talk about, Ymir lets it continue.

When the doorbell rings at 8:37 that morning, Ymir is not expecting anyone other than the occasional salesperson and religious zealots. She puts on her best grumpy face before she answers the door. It's not that difficult. She is tired and groggy after all.

But when she opens that door, she falls again into the sky blue eyes that have drawn her from past to present and future without fail.

"Hey." Historia greets timidly. She tries to smile, but Ymir notices her shaking.

There are a thousand things she want to say at that moment. 'What are you doing here' being on top of the list along with 'you should not have come.' But her voice fails her and her throat constricts tight enough to suffocate herself. She can't even mange a 'hey' back.

Historia waits at the door patiently, determined eyes never waiver for a second. It's clear that she is not about to move until she gets what she wants.

And Historia Reiss is one of the most stubborn people Ymir has ever seen.

In the end, she invites her inside and immediately regrets her decision. Historia surveys her apartment like a curious child, taking in the simple environment consists of exactly one bed, one desk with her work files hazardously shoved into piles, and that chair they bought together.

Ymir is about to offer her tea when she remembers there are only two kinds of drinks she has – coffee and beer. So she doesn't ask Historia what she wants and simply picks the logical one for her.

When the coffee is properly brewed and she returns with two mugs – double cream and triple sugar for Historia, she still remembers – the small blonde has made herself comfortable on her messy bed. Delicate fingers grasp the sheet. Her head is lowered in thought.

Ymir hands her the drink and sink into her armchair. Historia doesn't say thanks, but the small smile at the corner of her lips when she sips the coffee is all Ymir needs anyway.

Ymir pushes the papers aside and sets her cup down. She clears her throat, rehearsing in her mind what she should say.

"So," she tries to force a smile. "How have you been?"

Historia looks up from her drink. There is a sudden shift in her demeanor. A calmness that unsettles Ymir.

"I ran into Berthold after you left."

Ymir freezes. She doesn't remember Historia ever meeting Reiner, Berthold, or Annie in this life, even though Ymir herself knows the three quite well. They all possess their past memories. Her mind is racing as she tries to remember if she ever mentions the three of them to Historia.

"Berthold?" She makes a pathetic attempt to feign ignorance.

Something flashes behind those beautiful blue eyes and the tiny blonde bites her lower lip. Ymir reaches out instinctively to stop her from hurting herself.

Historia smacks her hand away.

"Yes. You remember, Berthold. Reiner and Annie's friends." She draws a shaky breath and Ymir wants to run away. She is afraid of hearing what she is going to say. All her past seem to catch up with her at that moment. She never forgets those innocent eyes, staring at her in bewilderment, so pure and ready to follow her to the end of the world, when she said her broken goodbye.

She supposes nothing has changed, after all.

"The ones you abandoned me to save."

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* * *

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 _But I don't answer questions, I just keep on guessing  
My eyes are still open, the curtains are closing  
But all that I have is this old dream I must have had_

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* * *

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"What do you want me to do?" She throws her hands up in the air. "It's not like I can tell you to simply break your engagement. You guys have been together for what? Six years?"

When she completely ignores her comments about Reiner, Berthold, and Annie, Historia switches to a different topic. Ymir might have been thankful for the considerateness if the next question is not so damn difficult to answer either.

"Why did you leave me?"

Historia has asked.

And Ymir isn't quite sure which time she is referring to. So she picks the easier scenario like she always does.

Historia seems a tad disappointed, but otherwise still as adamant as when Ymir opened the door.

"I wasn't talking about that." She whispers. "And I think I know why you left this time."

She doesn't know what to say, so she stay silent.

"I don't blame you for saving them. I never did and I never will." Historia continues. Her tiny fists ball together on her knees. Her voice grows stronger and louder with each word. They physically hurt Ymir. "It's something you had to do. I can understand that. I just wish you could have told me earlier."

"…and what if I told you? Would that have changed anything?"

She didn't plan on saying that. Those words just slip out of her tongue.

Historia is startled by her retorts. She doesn't need to see to know it. Maybe Historia is hurt by that bluntness. Maybe she will finally see Ymir for the selfish monster that she is.

She closes her eyes and bury her face in her palms.

 _This is not how it's supposed to go._ The tiny voice in her head says. _That's not what I wanted to say. I wanted to tell her…_

"I don't know."

Historia's voice drops to a whisper again. But there is something that makes Ymir look up. She almost wishes she hasn't.

Tears run down that beautiful face like two small rivers. But Historia is smiling. It is the most heartbreaking smile Ymir has ever seen.

"How can I know, when you wouldn't tell me anything?"

Her body moves on its own accord, and before Ymir can process what she is doing, she has Historia secured in her arms. The small blond latches onto her like her life depends on it, and sobs.

"I'm sorry." She says, because that's the only thing she can say.

"I don't want your apology." Her arms wraps themselves around her waist, clutching tighter than Ymir thought possible. "I want to know what you are thinking. I don't want you to sacrifice yourself to protect me all the time. I want to live this life with you by my side, with you right next to me. Not ahead and not behind."

She curses herself for her stupid tongue that seems to have tied itself into a knot.

"I told you before, didn't I? I want us to stop living for others and start living for ourselves."

How Historia suddenly remembers all of these, whether she actually remembers them or someone has broken their unspoken promise to her – those are questions that can wait for another time.

Right now she has to protect Historia again. She has to protect Historia because she is hurting and Ymir will be damned before she let that sorrow drag on for another moment longer.

"All I ever wanted…" She forces herself to form words, even though she has no idea what she is trying to say. "All I ever wanted is for you to be happy. I thought, I thought that in this life-"

Historia pushes herself away from the embrace and tilts her head up to meet her eyes again. Ymir can see the anger burning bright as ice, bearing into her soul.

And then suddenly, Historia grabs her face and smashes their lips together.

All the memories – from this life and the one before – come rushing like a tidal wave. She isn't sure if Historia sees them too, but she pushes back. Judging by how eagerly Historia melts against her, she supposes she has her answer.

When they finally part, Ymir notices the softness of her hands. They still hold onto her firmly, not giving her any chance to escape. But more important than that, she realizes something is missing – the chill of metal.

Historia presses their forehead together and smiles.

And for the first time in a long while, Ymir feels truly alive.

"You are my reason." She whispers against her lips. "I would have followed you anywhere. I still will, if you say the words."

.

* * *

.

 _A thousand times, a thousand times  
I've had that dream a thousand times  
A thousand times, a thousand times  
I've had that dream a thousand times_


End file.
